


Angry Virgin

by panickedbee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Science Bros, Stargazing, but stay tuned for star facts!, but with less bro and little science, two nerds finding each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panickedbee/pseuds/panickedbee
Summary: When Tony asks Bruce after the disastrous alien invasion and first mission of the Avengers if he wanted to stay with him for a little while, Bruce finds this offer very hard to say no to. So he says yes.





	1. how lost i was

**Author's Note:**

> For a very dear friend. May this ficlet be a reminder that some good and sweet ships have terrible ship names if you think too much about it.

"I'm very glad I bought you that."

The madness is over. Bruce Banner has shrunk down to regular size and the Other Guy hasn't made an appearance since. New York is in shreds, as disastrous as a metropolis can look after its first alien invasion. (And first implies it might not have been the last.) He would like to think the damage done was worth the sight of Loki the Frost Giant standing there in chains with Thor to escort him right to the Asgardian prison, a big device over his mouth that would keep him from using that wicked tongue of his. He would like to think it was worth meeting the man he has decided to jump into a car with afterwards and drive away.

 

_"Stay for a while," Tony said with that small grin on his face that almost seemed to be a permanent thing when he was facing Bruce. It wasn't a question, nor a request. Tony Stark wasn't very good at asking for things._

_"Really? Might be difficult to find an apartment that has an inbuilt glass container in the living room, don't you think?"_

_Tony looked down and smiled with a twinge of sadness in his eyes. He tried very hard to play it cool, but it didn't always work. Bruce saw._

_"You don't need an apartment if you just... stay with me for a while. Be my guest."_

_Bruce huffed out a laugh, but only because the offer was generous and he wasn't familiar with generosity._

_"Not to be the one to spoil the fun or anything, but your house is currently not at its best. Missing a few windows and... floors." Partially because of him, too, that._

_"What? Oh, that." Tony waved his objection away with a dismissive hand gesture. "That's not my house. Well, it is, but only when I'm in New York. I'm mostly in Malibu."_

_"Malibu?"_

_"Oh yes. Right at the beach, perfect view of the ocean, not much else around. How does that sound, Doc?" Tony's voice was seductive and Bruce distantly wondered if that was also how he spoke to ladies he wanted to talk into a night of fun._

_"That sounds..." Bruce was at a loss for words there. Malibu. Beach, ocean. That didn't only sound like an alternative to India, that sounded like ... vacation? He hadn't had one of those in as long as he could remember. Not only did Tony Stark want him to stay for a little while, he also wanted him to come to Malibu with him. To come_ home _with him. Show him some of his toys, too, probably. The suits, of course._

_"No one's said no to me before," Tony insisted, having a look on his face he couldn't quite read. Charming billionaire with abandoning issues perhaps?_

_Bruce laughed. "No one? Really? Guess that tells you a lot about what most people care about." His money. His house on the beach. The good looks, the handsome face Bruce couldn't help but like._

_Tony shrugged. "My money? My house on the beach? Whatever I hide away under my expensive suits? Did I forget anything?"_

_Bruce smiled. He couldn't decide if he was amused or impressed by how easily Tony seemed to find the line between overt confidence and self-reflection. He must have been betrayed before for similar reasons._

_"It's settled then?"_

_Reluctance made Bruce bite his bottom lip. Could he turn down an offer like this? It wasn't like he wouldn't have been curious about how the man lived, what else he worked on and, most importantly, what was still to discover about him._

_"Yes." It came out in a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. "Yes, alright. Malibu it is."_

_"Yes?" Tony's whole face lit up in a smile - a shockingly raw one - as if he had initially expected him to say no. He found that he really liked to surprise him._

 

So now here they are. Eating out in a restaurant before they will fly off to Malibu in Tony's private plane. It doesn't feel real, but then again, stranger things have happened to them during the last week.

Much stranger than Tony Stark suddenly telling him, _I'm very glad I bought you that._

Bruce smiles with hidden uncertainty, looking down at the two thousand dollar suit he is wearing. "You shouldn't have." He means it.

"I should've and I did," Tony says, meaning it too. "Looks good on you." He tries to let it pass as some sort of side note, but Bruce notices how he's avoiding his gaze by looking down at his plate.

"Yeah, well, down there you don't really own a lot." He is talking about India. He rarely ever does that because he never expects anybody to listen. Doesn't really know why he does it now. Maybe because so far Tony has been listening to everything he's had to say.

"You never missed anything? You know, the Western lifestyle? American football? Overrated celebrities? Starbucks?"

Bruce shrugs, drinking a sip of red wine that is probably more expensive than his last pair of shoes. He knows there is honest curiosity behind that joke, so he will give an honest answer. "There wasn't anyone to miss."

Tony nods. After a minute of silence he says in a quiet voice, "When I was in Afghanistan, I missed everything. Couldn't have done that for long. I mean, I had company, but..." He pauses, staring at something seemingly behind Bruce's shoulder but he is certain that if he looked behind him now he wouldn't see what Tony sees.

"That's different," Bruce interferes. "You were captured. I went willingly."

Tony gives him a look. They read each other's file. "Did you really?"

Bruce thinks about it. He's surprised the man opposite him already knows him better than most people. But then again, who else is there to know? There seems to be no one left.

 

It will take them around six hours to fly from New York to Los Angeles. The weather is wonderful today, and they are flying directly into a sunset. Meanwhile, Bruce Banner has fallen asleep on Tony Stark's shoulder. He doesn't mind. Looking out of the window, he feels how his own eyelids grow heavy with the urge to fall shut, his body craving sleep. The days have been too long, too eventful and too close to death while the nights are too short to process most of it.

Tony turns his head, careful not to wake the doctor, to look down on the dark-haired sleepyhead whose cheek is pressed against him. Some of his curls tickle his beard. Again, he doesn't mind. It feels good. To have someone here who has shared what he went through, who has suffered in similar ways, and who has helped him survive it all. He doesn't think he's ever actually thanked him for saving his life.

Slowly, he's lifting his arm and Bruce falls more comfortably against him. Poor guy, he thinks. He himself is tired to no end, but he was in a suit. He was wrapped in technology and partially powered by his arc reactor. Bruce Banner only has himself. The big guy must drain everything out of him. He lets him sleep, lets his arm be supported by the back of his seat. The gesture is inviting, is protective. He doesn't know what he's doing. He always likes to pretend he does, but he doesn't really.

"Thank you," he whispers into his hair. It's very soft.

They both sleep like this until the plane lands.

 

"Jarvis, say hello to our guest."

Tony's house leaves the doctor in utter astonishment. He doesn't know what he expected. It looks like it should have a big stamp on the front door - 'property of a billionaire' - because it is and it lives up to the accusation by all means. He is not quite sure how to feel. He's lived in places as big as Tony's guest bathroom, had bathrooms probably the size of Tony's wardrobe. Was meant to be kept in a glass tank if things had gone wrong on Shield's _Zephyr One_. This right here (and does he really call it home?) is unknown ground to him. He feels like the wrong man in the right place.

"Hello, Dr. Banner," a friendly male voice greets him from out of nowhere. He isn't surprised. Tony has told him about the A.I. But what did the A.I. know about him?

Bruce points at the first spot that comes to mind to refer to him - up.

"You told him about me?"

"Oh no," Tony says, slipping out of his suit jacket and throwing it onto the large sofa. "You're famous in this house." He seems to realise what he's just said only shortly after. Spinning around on his heel, he scratches his head. "I mean..."

Bruce finds himself wishing he could see Tony's eyes but they were hidden behind a pair of blue tinted sunglasses.

"I did a lot of research before, is what I mean. And I was already sorta familiar with your work and your... the circumstances of your..." He is clearly struggling with finding the right words where there could be none, not really, and one of his hands is trying to fish the perfect phrasing out of thin air next to his head.

Bruce can't hold back a chuckle. "Right," he simply replies and releases him from his own tight grip of awkwardness.

"How long will Dr. Banner be staying, Sir?" the voice in the ceiling asks.

Bruce is slightly caught off guard by having it confirmed by someone who isn't really an _actual person_ that yes, indeed, he will be staying here. With Tony. In his house by the ocean.

"Uhm."

"Don't put pressure on our guest, Jarvis," Tony warns into the room. Then, to Bruce, "Stay as long as you like."

Unfortunately, that offer doesn't put him under any less of a pressure and rather face to face with a problem much more essential: He has no idea what he would like.

 

In the morning, Bruce wakes up from what felt like the longest sleep of his life. It wasn't, wasn't by far, and somehow he's still tired. He had many dreams, reliving in the short time of six and a half hours the events that led New York to the flames. The Tesseract, Loki, his giant green palm pushing against the snout of an alien metal creature the size of a skyscraper. The weight of it all. It is still lingering in his bones, stored away safely to be put to use once more.

Yesterday night, when they arrived here, Tony didn't show him anything but the room in which he is now staying. It surprised him, seeing as Tony had raved so much about all that he had missed - his suits, his garage full of sports cars, the view from the terrace. Maybe he is trying to give Bruce some time, some space to find comfort in first and make his own wobbly steps of exploration, other than just overwhelming him with everything at once. That would be uncharacteristically considerate. Not that he wasn't usually. Just... bad at recognising other people's needs sometimes.

At first, he thought Tony was just too tired himself. But he knows he didn't go to sleep when Bruce did. As big as this house is, the walls aren't thick enough to keep the soft tunes of distant AC/DC from reaching his ears. Tony worked two floors below him on who knows what. Having trouble sleeping?

Pushing the blanket aside, he realises that he's still wearing same dress shirt as yesterday, now with half its buttons undone. Probably from a sad attempt of undressing himself last night. At least he thought of taking his shoes off before climbing into bed. In his suitcase he finds a selected amount of items, as little as he has come with. Doesn't know what he expected.

He pulls out a plain grey shirt, with a black Starfleet symbol on the front, and a pair of jeans. The shirt he's had since forever, but now it finally fits him again. It's as wrinkled as all of his clothes are from having been unpacked and pushed into the same tiny space several times. The jeans are too big. He lost a lot of weight in India and never bothered enough to buy clothes that fit his new body type. When said body is used to dealing with the most extreme case of a yo-yo effect, one tends to ignore that sort of thing after a while. What he's also trying to ignore, taking a quick look into the mirror of his own bathroom, is that even the dark circles under his eyes have dark circles. But it'll have to do.

 

The problem that comes with not having been shown around only dawns on him after he steps out of his room: He has absolutely no idea where to go. He takes a first hesitant step forward and almost bashes his head into the wall behind him as a voice from out of nowhere scares him half to death.

"Good morning, Dr. Banner."

"Jesus!"

"Jarvis," the A.I. corrects him.

Bruce's first instinct is still to check on his own heart rate, taking his pulse.

"My apologies, Dr. Banner. I did not mean to surprise you, but Mr. Stark advised me not to speak to you in your room. Would you like me to give you the report on today's weather now instead?" Jarvis asks politely.

"No, thank you. Erm, where is Mr. Stark?"

"Mr. Stark is currently occupied in the kitchen. Would you like me to lead you the way?"

Once again Bruce looks around to make sure Jarvis really doesn't have a physical form screwing with him out of some corner before he decides that looking up to the ceiling is still the best choice when he addresses him. "After you."

Apart from feeling like a child doing pot hitting with bandaged eyes and friends that are going, 'Hot! Cold!,' every time he tries to follow the directions Jarvis is giving him, he has to admit that the voice from the ceiling has done a fine job so far at guiding him through this architectural masterpiece of a mansion. Well, a masterpiece for an architect. A nightmare for someone with trust issues to be guided around by someone with neither face nor body. Nor brain, nor life supporting organs ... You get the point.

In the end, it wouldn't have been that hard to find Tony.

"Like a virgin! Touched for the very first time..."

The voice singing over the sound of oil burning in a pan belongs to no other than Madonna herself. But it's Tony who sings over Madonna.

Bruce stays in the door frame with crossed arms, grinning. "I love that song."

Tony practically jumps from where he's standing, completely caught off guard, and with a motion that almost looks practised he reaches for the remote control and turns the music off.

Slowly, he turns around but his eyes are closed. He looks like he's in pain. "Morning." Then, looking up, "Weren't you supposed to tell me when our guest wakes up?"

"Dr. Banner has woken up approximately ten minutes ago, Sir."

"Yes, I can see that."

"And you did explicitly ask me to stay out of Dr. Banner's room and to not inform you when Dr. Banner awakes for privacy reasons, no matter how often you may ask if he is still asleep."

"Yes, I might've-"

"To quote, Sir, your exact words were, quote, 'I want to be better than with some past one-night-stands I left to you and Pepper the next day. Though you both were admittedly very good at throwing people out of my house,' unquote."

"Yes, thank you, I think we've all got it now." Tony spins around again - and has he gone a bit red in the face there? - turning his attention back to something that smells suspiciously like breakfast.

"Using Jarvis to get rid of some bad habits?" Bruce asks, still smiling a little and finally entering the room.

"Who else is gonna do it? C'mon now, sit down, sit! I'm almost done."

Bruce does what he's told but can't take his eyes off Tony's backside. "What are you doing?"

Tony keeps facing away from him, frying pan in hand. "I thought some pancakes and scrambled eggs today, nothing special - you mean the cooking thing, don't you?"

"Didn't know you did... that. Could do that."

"I can cook sometimes. Sometimes when Pepper isn't here to ... What am I saying, Pepper is a terrible cook."

Bruce doesn't comment on that one at first and just waits patiently for Tony to come around with two plates full of pancakes and eggs.

"There's bacon in it. I just realised I didn't ask if you eat meat."

"I do. Sometimes."

Tony clenches his fist. "Dammit. Pepper doesn't either. Wait. Is now sometimes?" he asks, and the hope in his round brown eyes reminds Bruce of a child asking to stay up for an hour longer tonight.

"Of course! You made this for me."

"Good! Good..."

"Where is Pepper, by the way?" Bruce finally dares to ask between bites. Looking up, he's surprised to see Tony is still staring at him. He wouldn't touch his own food before trying to read some sort of feedback out of Bruce's facial expression.

"How is it?"

Bruce nods purposefully enthusiastic. "Yeah, it's good."

"Good."

"Surprisingly very good."

"Okay, that was just unnecessary."

"I just really didn't think you were the cooking type."

"You've mentioned."

"Did I?"

"That you did. Er, yeah, Pepper. She's... she's on vacation."

"Vacation?" That one bursts out of Bruce but his mouth is a little too full. He swallows. "When you've just come back from fighting an alien army?"

Tony avoids his gaze. "I told her that I needed some space, actually. Not the literal space this time."

And that was that conversation. Bruce knows when not to ask further. There is only one thing he's wanting to add.

"But you made it through." Their eyes lock over the table. "Somehow you made it through ... The wilderness - sorry, sorry!"

Tony falls back into his chair, one hand covering his face in an overdramatic gesture. "Oh god!"

"I really used to love that song when it came out."

"We're old, Banner."

"So is Madonna," Bruce argues, very badly trying to suppress a grin. God, he's missed smiling for stupid reasons. Too often it's just become a nervous tick of his. "And still making music."

"But not nearly as good."

"Still successful though. And have you seen her arms? That woman is not playing around."

Tony leans forward and out of his fainted maiden-position. "Oh, Dr. Banner, are you telling me you have a thing for Madonna?"

"I am just stating facts here, okay?"

"Of course."

They are staring at each other, daring the other one to look away first. Then, out of nowhere, Tony's face just lights up with a broad grin full of white teeth. This is ridiculous. Bruce joins him. They are being ridiculous. But at least it's _fun_.


	2. until i found you

The _Like A Virgin_ album plays on repeat and low volume for the rest of the day. Seeing as he is slowly growing tired of it, Jarvis must be raging on the inside having to play it for hours on end. But then again, Bruce doesn't suppose that Tony calculated the odds thoroughly enough to actually program that particular reaction for this particular situation, so he probably isn't.

So far he has been reading all day. _Death by Black Hole_ by Neil deGrasse Tyson. Tony has all sorts of books flying around somewhere, you only have to look ... Well, at some random place around here because Tony can't be bothered to put anything back to where he took it from. Even in his own home. _Especially_ not in his own home. He's gone downstairs after breakfast and he hasn't seen him since. Still no room tour either. He might still want to take things slowly, give Bruce the opportunity to come down himself if he likes to.

On the other hand, he can't know if Tony thinks that far when it comes to that or if the only reason for not inviting him to come down is that he really doesn't want him there. Bruce kind of knows this is his own insecurity talking. But that doesn't change the fact that he is insecure. When afternoon turns into evening, his impatience outgrows whatever it was that has held him back before. He puts the book away (to a place where books belong - a bookshelf) and makes his way to the entrance... hall? Living room? Who even knows with this house?

His fingers are itching from being so unoccupied as he lingers by the staircase that leads to the floor below. Where Tony is. Black Sabbath reveals him, replacing the brief period of Madonna in this house. Part of him thinks he should just call for him. Or not announce himself at all and just go to see what he is up to. Or none of the above and just do the cowardly thing instead.

"Jarvis?"

"How may I help you, Dr. Banner?"

"Do you- Do you know... Did- did Tony say... Do you think he would feel bothered by me?"

"Could you specify the circumstances under which you fear that Mr. Stark would feel bothered by your presence?"

"Me... looking at his work?"

"That does not sound very reasonable."

"Yeah, I realised that once I said it out loud."

He doesn't go to down the stairs that day.

 

Tony is finishing up his work for the day, telling Jarvis to close the hologram screens while he cleans his hands of the oil.

"Oh, by the way," he starts, trying to play it cool even though Jarvis doesn't give a damn about the intentions of his question because Jarvis is a computer. "Did... Dr. Banner ask for me sometime this morning?"

"Does that count as a violation of privacy, Sir?"

"No, Jarvis, I'm asking you to tell me if he wished to see me, not what his underwear looks like."

"He has not asked this morning, Sir, but around eight in the evening."

"Eight in the evening? What time is it?!"

"Half past 9 p.m., Sir."

"Oh my god," Tony groans with his head in his soap soaked hands. "I'm such a bad host."

He's cursing himself for a while longer before the smell of soap is really beginning to irritate him.

"I would advise you to clean your face now, Sir."

"Thank you, Jarvis..."

"Soap is an alkaline solution and can be damaging to the retina of the eye."

"Okay, can I... can I have a moment here please?"

Tony is bracing himself on the sides of the sink and tries hard not to open his eyes for the fear of going blind. Sometimes Jarvis can be a real pain in the...

 

With clean hands and face and after swapping his dirty and sweaty shirt for a new dark blue one, he begins searching for Bruce. It doesn't take him long. The house is dimly lit and quiet now. He finds the doctor just outside the main floor, the glass door between the huge windows standing open and letting in a mild breeze of fresh air and salt water. Tony steps closer on silent feet and with a little smile on his lips, watching Bruce watching the black sky. The blue arc reactor in his chest is shining out into the night like a weak flashlight. He's certain Bruce has noticed him already but that does not seem to disturb him.

He watches him for a few minutes longer, just where he is lying on the lounger at the terrace, before he's feeling weird about it. Instead, he decides to wordlessly join him on the lounger next to his.

The Pacific crashes against the shore, answering the calls of the moon. It is in its third quarter tonight, and if he were Bruce he would know that this phase of the moon is called waning gibbous when more than half of it is still illuminated but each new sunset is taking more of the light when it fades. Keeping the moon's beauty all to itself. The sea has always calmed Tony, even when no one would believe him to be that kind of person. Listening to the ocean hitting the rocks beneath his feet reminds him of how far it has travelled to meet it. How the world is in constant motion, an unstoppable force. How nothing is ever certain and nothing stays the same forever.

"She's in Switzerland." His words fly with the wind but Bruce catches them on the way.

"Switzerland? Why is she in Switzerland?"

Tony keeps watching the Moon like she might flee somewhere else if he didn't. Like she wouldn't be this solid object there in the heavens, surrounded by the stars that guard her (and he is sure the Sun has his eye on her, too). Watching the Moon feels easier than looking at the void around it. _Bad memories_.

"Because Coulson is in Switzerland."

Coulson who is, in fact, not dead. In retrospect, perhaps it was a tad impolite of them to get offended first instead of congratulating him on that. But seeing as the Avengers were literally one of the last people to be told in one of Shield's circular mails that mentioned it on the side somewhere between 'Hang in there' on a picture with a cat hanging from a tree and 'Don't fuck anything up before Christmas' kind of provoked a response like that. Particularly Barton comes to mind there, sending back a mostly empty mail with an angry emoji and nothing else.

So Pepper and Phil. (He knows that his name is Phil now.) It does make sense. Pepper has always liked Phil. They are organised geniuses surrounded by their own kind of chaos, whether that means faking one's own death or looking over Tony's finances. (Phil the former, Pepper the latter, to clarify.) And it's not like Pepper had left him _for_ Phil. Technically, no one's left anyone yet. They are simply taking a break. Pepper is simply on vacation in Switzerland. They deal with that sort of stuff like adults now. Or at least that's what Tony wants to call it.

He feels a lump growing in his throat and the sudden urge to replace it with something else. Something cold that could burn it away.

"I'll get the bourbon."

"Two ice for me, please." His Dr. Banner has really excellent ideas.

When he returns from the kitchen with two glasses filled with golden liquor and ice cubes, Bruce takes it wordlessly. And just as his excellent ideas, the next thing he hears from him is just as surprising.

"I can see the Orion so clearly from here."

"What?" This comes so out of nowhere that Tony is forced back from the taste of bourbon on his tongue, blinking up to Bruce Banner. Bruce Banner, his wonderful guest he has so carelessly ignored all day. His arm stretches up from his body and he points into the darkness above.

"Three bright stars in a straight line, can you see them?"

Tony tries to follow where he's pointing, searching the sky that is mostly dark, dotted by islands of light. "Yes!" How excited he gets once he sees what Bruce sees.

"That's the Three Sisters, or Las Tres Marías, building the Orion Belt. They were known and used by our ancestors in order to keep track of time. It's always been interesting to me how science is ever so closely linked to poetry and storytelling."

Tony holds his breath and listens. He wants to ask him, surprised and amazed and _fascinated_ as he is by this new side of him, yet he doesn't dare to interrupt. He knows Bruce wants him to watch the stars with him but his eyes keep coming back to the man who unravels them for him. It used to be so hard to look at the night sky, the first night. He didn't understand.

"They have names, those three stars, as they all do, and they originate from the Arabic language. The Bible even states something about the bands of Orion and the Pleiades, which are also called the Seven Sisters."

He didn't understand how it was possible for him to be back here, on solid Earth, held down by gravity. Space held nothing. Only void, only light, nothingness, endless darkness and no sound. He thought he was going to be swallowed by this darkness forever. Being small in the endlessness of everything else, being crushed by his very existence. Being no one, nothing at all, to the universe.

"That makes it ten," Tony says instead, trying to stay with him. "Ten sisters." Here, they are tucked away safely, under the atmosphere.

Bruce's head turns to him in surprise, and for a moment Tony fears he might stop now. But all he does is smile and look back at the stars. "I suppose it does. The heavens love their sisters."

"Someone's got to 'cause on Earth they're still mostly underpaid."

Bruce chuckles. He loves that sound. He really is trying, trying to look at the stars and see them for the first time with him. Trying not to remember and instead listen. Something he rarely ever does for long. But now he wants to. Look at the stars with Bruce and listen to his stories as if that same sky had not come close to consuming him in all that he is.

"Tell me more," he whispers, and Bruce continues to be surprised. He looks away from him like that was what makes the talking easier.

"It's Ancient Greek. The cluster is so close to Earth and sailors used to navigate over the sea with the help of the daughters of Pleione. And speaking of sisters. Back when women were still actively forbidden to engage in science at Harvard, a man called Pickering actually fired his male assistants and began employing women to catalogue data of the universe. Now their achievements are mostly remembered under the questionable name of Pickering's Harem. But these women renewed science and more sisters and daughters were encouraged to follow their steps. And yes, they're probably underpaid for what they do."

"Wow."

"Wow?" Bruce chuckles again, but once he turns to look at him, _see_ him, he appears to be genuinely taken aback by the open adoration that Tony's face displays.

"You know a lot about all that for someone with a degree in nuclear physics."

Bruce seems to think that over for a minute. Or he's deciding if he wants their loose conversation to go in the direction of ... more dangerous waters.

"When I was in Kolkata, I just needed something distant and... solid."

"And the stars are solid?" Tony thinks of his Pacific Ocean. How it is ever-changing, untameable.

"Earth, Tony. Our place in a fixed system. The fact that we all see the same thing when we look up at night, no matter where we are in the world. Laws of the universe, something even we have to obey to. Being less important. Being small. When one part of you demands to be big and destructive, it's refreshing to just feel... small, for once."

"I can understand that."

And Tony is being surprisingly honest about that. He shouldn't, though, should by no means understand the value of feeling small and unimportant. He has never known a life in which no one knows his name, in which there are no magazines with his face on their cover, no little boys and girls wanting nothing more than to become like him. But he understands Bruce with such curious, curious clarity, and so he can understand what he is trying to say.

The stars haven't moved the way that the waves have during their conversation. Unlike Earth that is spinning, spinning, spinning, the stars really appear to be... something solid.

They spend their night looking up and counting stars in silence. They're on their second glasses of bourbon and it warms their throats and loosens their tongues. Every once in a while Bruce would point upwards again and ask if Tony could make out the same constellation that he sees. Sometimes, a story would follow, involving mythological creatures and people believing in them. Sometimes Tony would ask if some new form he's seen also has a name and Bruce, although he explains that he could hardly know _every_ star in the night's sky, doesn't think that 'the thing with the horns and glitter moustache' has already been discovered or named.

"Let's give it a name, then. That way, if a brilliant scientist looks through their telescope and sees this beauty, we'll already have it plagiarised and get their Nobel Prize."

"I don't think it works like that..."

"Would look amazing in my cabinet though."

"Let's name it then."

They name it Steve.

Another hour or so later, Tony picks up on an earlier question again. "It's because it's a bit like a nervous system, isn't it?"

"The stars?"

"The universe, Bruce."

"Are you saying each of us is made of a little unique universe?"

"That's what you said now."

"You're such a romantic." Bruce laughs at him but instead of feeling mocked, Tony feels honoured. Bruce isn't a very happy person. Hearing him being so carefree, so honest with him, fills his heart with pride. 

Still, he has a reputation to defend. "I was making a comparison based on scientific facts and systematic structures. You're the one who made that into poetry."

"Yeah, sure." Bruce pauses. "Hey, wanna hear some real poetry?"

Their eyes lock, and Bruce's look black and alien-like in the darkness.

"Yes."

" _Didn't know how lost I was until I found you/ I was beat incomplete/ I'd been had, I was sad and blue./ But you made me feel/ Yeah, you made me feel-_ "

" _Shiny and new_ ," they both finish together.

Tony doesn't have enough teeth for the width of his grin. This is ridiculous. He blames the bourbon and knows it's a lie.

"Like a virgin," he recites the lyrics like it was the great speech from M.L.K., "Touched for the very first time."

They both laugh until they stomachs hurt.

 

It's the sort of night that's fleeting by too fast while you feel like it should have no ending at all. It has to end to keep the memory. Also, both of them are already yawning and struggling to keep their eyes open.

Slowly, Bruce moves to stand and rubs his eyes. "Think I'm getting too old for this kind of thing."

"Oh, c'mon, you're just in your prime! How old are you, twenty-five?"

"Funny," he replies sarcastically but laughs anyway.

Tony gets up, too. "You wanna go to bed, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. But Tony? There's... there's been something on my mind. I know it's such a cliche to do that when you're drunk but, ehm, I'm not saying I'm _drunk_ but we've been _drinking_ , and I don't..."

Tony picks up his glass, unsure how much longer it would take Bruce to get out whatever he's trying to say.

He breathes, once and deeply with his eyes closed, and when he opens them again, there is... courage.

"I'd very much like to... kiss you. I think you should be kissed."

With that, he reduces Tony Stark to utter speechlessness. He's looking at Bruce Banner like he's the answer to something he's never even asked before. Remembering the bourbon in his hand, he suddenly throws his head back and gulps the rest of it down in one go.

"Tony?"

He is still just staring at him. Then he's laughing, but more like a maniac than a decent human being, and when he faces Bruce again and realises how his expression is turning more and more worried it dawns on him with the weight of a cannon ball flying into a barricade that this is, in fact, real life. When he finally finds his voice again, he thinks that his brain has run out of energy. Distantly, he hears Jarvis's voice from the back of his head.  _Power below ten percent, Sir_. _Recommending immediate retreat from mission._

"I also think I should be kissed." Which is really the stupidest thing he could've said, so he tries that explaining himself thing he sometimes does.

"I don't want you to think that that's the only reason I... not saying I haven't thought about... I just didn't think you would..."

"Tony." Bruce's soft smile is so calming in this storm of his own feelings that it almost shocks him. "You're not my first."

That definitely shocks him. "Oh god."

"Look, we can just forget about the last five minutes, okay?"

"No!" That came out louder than expected. "But we can... we can go inside first, if you want to." Or maybe he wanted to kiss him outside, under the stars. God, Bruce Banner wanted to kiss him. _Wanted? Wants?_

It's embarrassing, really. Tony Stark, self-proclaimed playboy billionaire, chickens out at the mere promise of a kiss.

Bruce huffs a nervous laugh. "Are we... are we planning this out now?"

Bruce is right. Is right to be laughing, Tony thinks as he walks through the glass door and Bruce is behind him. This shouldn't be so difficult. This is one of two things he feels he's really good at, and he's just making a fool of himself now, like a schoolboy deciding he's not yet ready to be into girls after all.

Bruce is so good as to close the door behind him, and Tony just looks over his shoulder at the right moment, noting how the dark curls fall against his olive skin in the blue moonlight. Before rationality can jump in and stop him, the glass and bottle are on the nearest table and Bruce is pushed against the closed door, accompanied by a muffled gasp and the sound of breaking glass.

"Sorry," he hushes against Tony's lips, just one breath away from his. From up so close, his body heat is like the sun high on the horizon, his heart pounding in a rhythm with his own. Bruce has dropped his own glass and it has burst into pieces on the floor.

"I'll buy a new one."

Another breath hitches in his throat and with a confirmation of eyes meeting, head tilting, hands cupping his face on both sides, so gently it might break under the slightest pressure, Tony seals their lips and the world stops turning.

Kissing Bruce is like nothing he has ever felt before. He's kissed many, many people before him, mostly women with mouths soft from red lipstick and hands smaller and delicate. Bruce's lips are just a little rough, a little chapped, his hands bigger and warm where they run up and down his back and leave goosebumps in their wake. He feels so real, so grounding, and yet he can't help but believe this to be a dream. They could just as well be kissing on the very tip of the Taj Mahal because this is what Bruce tastes like - like India, like ancient architecture and fresh water and sunsets between palm trees.

Bruce tilts his head the other way and deepens the kiss himself, and now it's Tony's turn to gasp because, _my God_ , if this is what it's like to kiss a man, he thinks he's just turned gay now. (Of course, he knows it doesn't work like that.) His fingers sink into his curls and beneath the product in them and they're soft and thick, and he uses them to press him closer to him. The taste of bourbon on Bruce's tongue both brings him back into reality and clouds his mind further, but sooner or later his legs will give up under him, as wobbly and tired as they are.

Also, he's sure if they keep going like this, the glass might just steam up behind them.

"Maybe we should move this somewhere else," Tony whispers against him.

So they do just that.

Bruce really does go to bed that night, and Tony finally shows him another room of the house. Bruce learns that his bed is huge and that the softness of his mattress will definitely spoil him for any other bed to come. Even though he hopes, secretly and almost distantly as his head is thrown back into the pillows, that there won't be any other beds to come anytime soon.

 

They spend the coming months sleeping in Tony's bed at night. They rarely ever go to bed at the same time, but when they do it's after long movie nights that end with shared pizza and half drunkenly pointing out all the things that don't make sense in whatever Hollywood blockbuster is on.

("Houses can't just collapse like that, have they never built a skyscraper?" - "I think most people haven't, Tony.")

This thing between them is going surprisingly well for someone with a history of short-term relationships and fear of abandonment and the other one with anger issues and social anxiety. They just sort of ... work for each other. Tony has shown him his suits, finally, and Bruce has come up with some very interesting ideas and improvements. He also gets along very well with Jarvis now, which, for Tony, is something of the weird equivalent to your spouse getting on with your parents. And they still look at the stars at night.

It's almost surprising how quickly Christmas comes around.

Tony walks over to him with two glasses of champagne and a huge grin on his face.

"So I've heard somewhere that I'm a terrible romantic."

Bruce takes one glass from him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Didn't say terrible."

"Still," he says, smiling even broader. "I thought I'd bring you a star from the sky."

"That's not possible." Bruce explains to him what a star is and why it isn't possible.

"Alright, Newton. Guess that's what I get from dating a massive nerd."

"You're a nerd."

"Great comeback. Anyway, I have a certificate that proves you wrong."

"A certificate?"

"I am proud to announce that you, Dr. Banner, are now the rightful owner of a star."

Tony pulls out a certificate (wherever he had that hidden) and shows it to Bruce. He takes a big sip of champagne and reads.

"You bought me a star?"

"That I did."

"You named a star after... Wait, you didn't. You..." He reads the name on the certificate. " _Angry Virgin_? Seriously?"

"I thought it captured that special moment we had there."

"I can't believe you sometimes."

They burst into laughter and then never stop smiling. Christmas turns into New Year's and they toast each other and their star and order more unhealthy food, but sometimes Tony still cooks, and they improve the suits and make the world a little bit better with advanced technology they keep working on together and they are, finally, fucking happy.

The End.

 

_I made it through the wilderness_  
_Somehow I made it through_  
_Didn't know how lost I was_  
_Until I found you_

_I was beat_  
_Incomplete_  
_I'd been had, I was sad and blue_  
_But you made me feel_  
_Yeah, you made me feel_  
_Shiny and new_

_Hoo, Like a virgin_  
_Touched for the very first time_  
_Like a virgin_  
_When your heart beats_  
_Next to mine_


End file.
